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  He heard the sound. The creaking of soft leather as the cabin door swung open. Turning, he waited, listening to her familiar shuffle. Her leg was almost fully healed, he realized with some satisfaction. She wasn't limping at all.

  "Don't shoot," she teased. Light from a sickle moon glowed silver on her white wrapper. A small ruffle from her nightgown peeked out from underneath.

  "You're in luck. I didn't even draw on you."

  She moved with a regal grace. With the way the sheen of starlight cloaked her in silhouette, she looked like a fabled queen of old.

  Wyatt shook his head. Apparently he had been drinking too much whiskey.

  He recapped the bottle and set it aside. "I hope you know I'm missing out on my poker game tonight."

  "Don't tell me you're a gambler, too." She halted with a small wobble before him. "Whiskey and cards." She sighed. "I guess that's a prospector's life."

  "Not always. Not if there's better company to be had." Wyatt gestured to the dusty earth beside him. "I haven't always had a woman living with me before this. Come join me."

  "I couldn't sleep either." A pleasant, light scent of roses filled the air as she settled on the ground beside him. "I miss home. I miss my house and my garden. And the harvest ... oh, I hope it went well. I left Ruby's husband in charge of the farm."

  She scrubbed her face with her hands, clearly worried. Wyatt leaned his back against a large boulder. "What kind of farm?"

  "We grow apples. Ma inherited the land from her family. Pa was never much of a provider, he was always drifting." She faced him, and only the faint ethereal light from the thin slivered moon separated each of them from the night. "What about you?"

  "What about me?"

  "Do you stay in one spot for the length of a season, or are you always moving on?"

  He didn't like to talk about himself. First, it was the surest way to blow a cover. And besides, he never trusted anyone that much. His life was no one's business. And he opened his mouth intending to say so. "I was in the cavalry for ten years."

  The words popped out of his mouth of their own volition, betraying how lonely he was, how drawn to this tender, steely-willed woman.

  "The cavalry?"

  "I got out years ago. I landed myself a job as a deputy in a few small towns and later as a sheriff in a fairly big town not far from here. I don't like to remember that time."

  "Is that when you had that divorce?" She whispered the last word. Not with judgment, but with a need so raw in her voice, it frightened him.

  "Yes." Wyatt felt his chest squeeze tight.

  "Have you thought about settling down again?" So soft, those words.

  "No." It was the truth, he realized. He had a fine enough home in Bannack, where he worked for the county judge, and a job he liked. But his heart, it was wandering, as restless and wild as the night wind. He doubted any woman could tame it, could make him trust in love and forever again. "Did I scare you tonight? I mean, after so many marriage proposals, my kiss might have been unwanted."

  "Not unwanted."

  Wyatt recognized something in her voice, a softening . . . of her, of him, of the distance between them. "I didn't mean–"

  "Oh, I know." Too quickly, she interrupted him. "I have already forgotten it."

  But her defenses had been knocked down and stayed down. Now Wyatt could see right through her, look right into her heart, lonely and wanting.

  He felt the same way.

  It would be so easy to say something humorous, to admit he hadn't forgotten the sweet taste of her mouth and wasn't likely to. But where would that get him? Garnet didn't want him. She was as terrified of an involvement as he was. They were alike in that way. Besides, he didn't know what he wanted from her, except another kiss.

  "Then what are we going to do about this?" he asked, gesturing between them. "What are we going to do about us? After all, I kissed you. Isn't that improper where you come from?"

  "Absolutely, but these things happen."

  "It was only a little kiss," he said.

  "Hardly anything at all."

  Wyatt brushed a finger along the edge of her soft face, tracing the line of her cheekbone. Her black hair curled in small wisps, dark silk against white satin. Her skin felt softer than anything he had ever known.

  She didn't flinch, and he drew his finger away.

  "Maybe we could be friends," he suggested now. He didn't know what else to say or do.

  "Friends?" Garnet gazed up at him with her jeweled gaze. "In the whole of my life in Willow Hollow, I've never had a man extend me such an offer."

  Wyatt saw her heart in her eyes, heard it in her words. "Must be a right unfriendly place you hail from."

  "No," she smiled now, soft and captivating. "I just hadn't met you."

  Chapter Nine

  Garnet laid in bed and watched dawn color the canvas roof above her. First, the darkness waned, fading to a charcoal gray, then an almost lavender light. Soon, peach brushed the canvas, both the hue and light growing stronger until it glowed with pale orange sunshine. Birds in the trees began their happy songs, and Garnet felt happy, too. Happy, but troubled.

  Oh, she'd tangled herself in a fine web. Agreeing to stay here in Wyatt's cabin while he'd kissed her. Even now, the luxury of that kiss, of his hot warm lips caressing hers, made the blood thrum in her veins. She was becoming infatuated with him, she had no doubt. It was very dangerous ground, and yet she could not seem to stop herself. Is this what happened to Ma? Had those first kisses led to more?

  A cracking pain tore through her heart. She could not break the vow she'd made to herself, to never make the mistake her mother had. To never repeat her childhood by growing up to love a man who wouldn't stay, who wouldn't love her back.

  But staying here didn't mean she would come to such an end. She had very practical reasons for being with Wyatt instead of accepting Gus's offer of a cabin. She did not know the man, for one. What sort of landlord would he be? Was he only a businessman looking for a renter, or did he expect something more from her?

  Even now there was a crisp bite to the morning air. Soon it would freeze and then, if the snows came early and heavy, they would be stranded here. The mountain passes would be far too treacherous for stagecoach travel.

  Beside her, Golda made a delicate sigh in her sleep, a wistful sound as if she were having a pleasant dream.

  Garnet had had one of those, too. It had involved Wyatt's deep voice rumbling in her ear. She'd sat so close to him she could feel the heat from his body through the cotton of her dress. His kiss had played a prominent role, the tingling feeling that started in her lips and then extended throughout her body.

  Friends. That's what Wyatt had said. They were friends now. There would be no more kisses, which was a very good idea. Kisses could lead to all sorts of trouble. But a friend . . . why, that would be a good thing indeed. She wouldn't have to be alone, carrying her worries and troubles inside. She had Wyatt to talk to when she couldn't sleep, Wyatt who listened and who shared a part of his past with her.

  She could have this remarkable friendship, as long as she kept her foolish heart under control. As long as her tingling body stopped aching for more of his kisses. Well, she was the epitome of self-control. Garnet Jones had willpower that could not be broken.

  Friends. Yes, that was the perfect solution.

  A ringing thud shattered the silence and she leaped out of bed. It sounded again as she burst out the door and squinted up into the morning light. "What are you doing?"

  "Hammering a nail into this board." He grinned at her from his position on the ladder.

  "It's not even six o'clock in the morning, far too early to be making that much racket."

  "I'm putting an addition on my shack." Gentle morning sunshine outlined him, painting his muscular shape with light. His tan cotton shirt clung to his shoulders. His collar gaped open to reveal a glimpse of his throat and chest, and his rolled-up shirtsleeves showed the ripple of muscle in his forearms. My, he was suc
h a well-built man, her pulse fluttered.

  What was she doing? She had to stop thinking of him like that. He was her friend. Any feelings she had for him had to be of a strictly platonic nature.

  "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" she asked now. It was her experience that prospectors didn't know a whole lot about work, carpentry or any other. Then she remembered Wyatt's story, how he'd been a deputy and a sheriff before he'd given up a life of responsibility.

  "I have a hammer, don't I? I wouldn't have one if I didn't know how to use it."

  "You think you know how to use it." She watched him fish for a nail in his shirt pocket and couldn't help but notice the strong chest beneath the shirt. "I happen to know a little something about carpentry."

  "You?" He laughed. "I thought your specialty involved a washboard and lye soap."

  "I'm a woman of many talents." She only then realized she was standing before him in her nightgown with her hair unbound and dancing in the wind. Goodness, this infatuation she had for Wyatt had to stop. She was losing all propriety and the last of her common sense. What scandalous thing would she do next? Well, in her present state of mind she might not even notice.

  "I'll start breakfast," she offered, "while you play with your tools."

  He tipped back his head to laugh, merriment in his eyes. "Fine. I have to take a quick trip to town this morning and then spend some time working my claim. I think you ought to be safe without me. There are so many men hanging around these days, dropping off or picking up their laundry."

  "Ah yes, you want to go play in the creek." She'd almost forgotten that Wyatt was a wanderer and a gambler, just as Pa was. A man who searched for treasure. "I'll let you know when the eggs are ready."

  "There's someone coming." He stood on the sloping rafter, straining to see. "Yep. If I don't miss my guess, that looks like Gus's bay gelding."

  "Gus?" She was not dressed for company or for turning down a perfectly good rental house. This only proved it. She'd completely lost her mind.

  * * *

  "You mean we're staying?" Golda tossed down her hairbrush. "I heard what Gus offered you. If we lived in town, we'd be closer to Lance."

  "Yet another reason to stay here." Garnet rolled her eyes. She was happy for the first time in her life, and she wasn't going to let her sister, still unhappy over her separation from Lance, ruin it. "Wyatt will not charge us rent, unlike Gus Adams. We will be able to save our money faster and leave this town much sooner."

  Well, leaving had seemed like a good idea. That was before she'd found a friend in Wyatt.

  "I can't believe this." Golda clenched her soft hands tight in her lap. Her mouth pursed in clear disapproval. "After all your lectures, you want to stay in this awful cabin because of him."

  "Of Wyatt?" Was it that obvious? Could anyone look at her and know how she felt about the man? "I told you, staying here is the most logical choice."

  "I see how you look at Mr. Tanner. All these years I've endured your warnings on falling in love with men just like him, and look at you. You're doing the very thing you lecture against. Are you that desperate?"

  "I am a woman, too. All those years of responsibility were hard, and I got stuck with it because Ma was so ill and there was no one else. I never asked for something for myself because one of my younger sisters always needed something more, and I never complained. Not once. Until now. I want this, Golda. I want to stay here. We will be leaving for home soon enough. I expect you not to say another word against me."

  "I'll make sure she doesn't," Wyatt said from the doorway, his voice low and dangerous.

  Garnet spun around. Shock and embarrassment tightened her throat. She couldn't force out the words of denial and apology. Did Wyatt think she was sweet on him? Is that why he'd dared to kiss her? Had he thought she was so desperate she would easily give him her affections?

  She had been a fool indeed. A fool to think she could somehow have a friend in a man, even one as wonderful as Wyatt. Didn't she deserve something all her own, just this once? Something that didn't involve working to provide for others? She would be leaving in a few weeks by her calculations, as long as the snows held off, and in the meantime didn't she deserve a friend? Couldn't she just enjoy a little human contact?

  Not now, now that he knew how lonely she was, how vulnerable her heart.

  She feared Wyatt was no better than her Pa had been, a wanderer, a man who used a woman's affections to his own advantage. After all, why would a man show interest in a woman as plain and prickly as her?

  With a heavy heart, she reached for the frying pan.

  * * *

  Watching Garnet practically throw herself at that Mr. Tanner was about to make Golda ill. How many years did she have to listen to her clench-jawed, stern-eyed older sister extol the virtues of independent females?

  All of her life, that's how long. For fifteen years she'd had to endure Garnet's lectures on men, on the pleasure men wanted from a girl, of how terribly men treated women. And for what?

  To watch Garnet fill up a less-than-civilized man's battered old tin coffee cup.

  Oh, there was no eyelash-batting and no coy little bobs of the head. Mr. Tanner wasn't the kind of man drawn to those types of affectations in a woman. He actually seemed to like Garnet's stern-faced approach to life. Seated across from each other at the small, miserable excuse for a table, they were discussing carpentry methods and how best to put a roof and an addition on this sorry excuse for a shack.

  Mr. Tanner wanted to build large enough rooms for all of them to winter comfortably here, should the need arise.

  Golda shook her head in silent disapproval. As she poked the egg on her new plate with the fork Garnet had bought at that tolerable little store in town, Golda watched the yellow yolk run into her thin slab of salt pork. A deep resentment began to build in her belly so that she wasn't hungry at all.

  All those years of lecturing and warnings, and look how Garnet was setting herself up for the very folly she preached against. Anyone could see the type of cloth Mr. Tanner was cut from, and was her older sister as desperate as all that? There was no mistaking the gleam of interest in Garnet's eyes.

  And surly Mr. Tanner was nearly friendly with each response. There was, of course, only one thing a man like him would want from a woman, and Tanner wasn't one to offer a wedding ring. Not like her dear, sweet, noble Lance. Even now, excitement fluttered through her.

  He would be here soon, with a ring, with a horse, and with real promises he meant to keep. He was honest and respectable, come to find his fortune in this harsh country. He would make something of himself, whereas Mr. Tanner would always remain . . . despicable.

  It was all Golda could do to hide her sneer. She might have lived a sheltered life in Willow Hollow, but she had observed Ruby's husband over the past year of their marriage. He didn't seem to bring down the kind of catastrophe on Ruby that Garnet was always warning against.

  And when Ruby's life hadn't turned miserable, when she hadn't come running home from abuse or neglect or hardship, Garnet had simply dismissed the husband as being one of those rare men who were not so deeply disagreeable as to beat their wives or require constant supervision.

  Well, Garnet might think she knew everything, but Golda had seen quite a bit of the world now and felt confident in her own decision-making. Not all men were as bad as she had been led to believe. There might be those like Mr. Tanner and those frightening men in town, but there had been kind Elmer and generous Gus and that pleasant store owner. Lance was among those sort, a man she could give her life to.

  Golda sliced off a bit of egg with her fork. She had to eat, despite the disgust at her sister's antics and the excitement shivering in her belly. Today would be the longest–and the best–day of her life.

  * * *

  Having Garnet in his life was seriously compromising his investigation. Wyatt pulled the leather drawstring poke from his pocket and fished inside it for a small nugget.

  "I will have m
y hired boy load the lumber you purchased into your wagon." Barrett Carson hauled out his gold scale and took a careful step. "Did Miss Garnet accompany you to town this morning?"

  "No, she's home scrubbing clothes." Wyatt tossed the nugget on the polished counter and studied the man before him carefully. "Every unmarried man in this town has shown up on my doorstep with their laundry in hand. She'll have the entire population of Stinking Creek shining clean in no time."

  "She's a woman of fortitude."

  Wyatt didn't like Carson's tone. Didn't like the gleam of interest in his beady little eyes. "She is leaving town in a few weeks if the weather holds. She is not looking for marriage."

  "A woman can always be tempted."

  Wyatt resisted the urge to punch the smug grin off the shopkeeper's mouth. He knew beyond a doubt Garnet could not be tempted. She didn't care about a man's money. She was more than happy to stay with him, more than willing to share a kiss and friendship beneath a moonlit sky. She wasn't going to run off on a man to enjoy the company of another who could give her more in the way of material possessions. Garnet was loyal and honest, he'd learned this by watching her.

  And she was his.

  He had vowed never to become involved with another woman again. Only a woman could break his heart the way Amelia had. Only a woman could hold all of a man's fragile trust, love, and hope in her hand. And when they were broken, how could they ever be repaired?

  Now he knew. He'd been lonely for so long. Lonely by choice, because he never met one woman who could be what he needed. Until now. Until Garnet.

  He grabbed his box of supplies. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing, deciding to try again. Then again, maybe it was. Garnet had a life and a home. And he had an investigation and a job waiting for him far from here.

  "That's quite a nugget, Tanner. You must have a good claim."

  "Won it in a poker game." Wyatt considered Barrett Carson again. He was a wealthy man's youngest son, proving his worth to his father by working in this store. Educated, articulate, and high society, Wyatt figured. He'd learned at his late-night poker games that Carson was unhappy working for his father, didn't like Stinking Creek, wanted out of Montana.